


Creation Myths

by ivoryandhorn



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Experimental Style, Gen, Myths and folklore, backstory speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoryandhorn/pseuds/ivoryandhorn
Summary: The blood ran out, he told Emily Kaldwin, at the island that made him who he is,and I became a god.That is one story. There are others.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Creation Myths

**Author's Note:**

> Found this one nearly finished in my WIPs folder. All the variations in the in-universe lore and fiction surrounding the Outsider is so interesting to me, I wanted to try my hand at writing a little.

_The blood ran out_ , he told Emily Kaldwin, at the island that made him who he is, _and I became a god._

That is one story. There are others.

  


* * *

  


The whales have their stories about the Outsider too, though in their songs he is not called the Outsider but _Leviathan_.

Leviathan has the eyes and soul of a whale, but the body of one of the small things on the metal shells that dance on the air above the waves. Leviathan traded away his blubber and flippers and tail for the songs of the Great Deeps, and he has never stopped mourning their loss. Leviathan is a quiet and lonely god, who floats in the Great Deeps to watch what passes in the shallows. The knives that carve at his flesh are different from those that carve at the unlucky whales hoisted up out of the water. The whales sing of Leviathan often, but know that Leviathan will never save them from the small things on metal shells, from thinning schools of fish, from the hunger of other whales. 

And Leviathan knows their songs in turn, and hears their cries as the small things cut away their oil and flesh, and it is sung that, if you listen closely when you are frightened or in pain, you may hear Leviathan singing back to you. The song Leviathan sings is not of comfort, exactly, but neither is it of malice. It is simply a reminder that Leviathan is there, and the whale is not alone. And with this, the whales are content.

  


* * *

  


The rats whisper to each other of a dark god, one they call Swarming-Under-Skin. They know their god only by the power that destroys them. When a rat moves without thinking, swarms without thinking, devours without thinking, that is Swarming-Under-Skin. It drowns them in obedience and hunger. It cannot be fought. The rats huddle in their nests, and hope the Swarming-Under-Skin will leave them be. Like all creatures, they do not wish to die for another’s ambitions.

  


* * *

  


All stories change with the passing of time. Details are lost and rarely remembered. Such as:

They found him at fifteen, but kept him caged for nearly a year, until the stars had properly aligned.

They starved and whipped him with care, according to significant schedules. Mortification of the flesh is purifying, and the vessel of the Void must be very pure indeed.

The day of the ritual was not the first time he had tried to escape; the ropes tearing his skin was not even his first attempt that day. When they finally bound him, it was with a split lip and cracked ankle for his troubles.

But of these trials, only the scar at his throat remains, and so that is the only one he remembers.

  


* * *

  


In Morley there stalked a killer. He found women, poor women that no one would miss, and gutted them in the dark. He took their organs and tongues away with him and proffered them at the shrine in his basement. 

In his diary, he wrote: _The Void is a place of hunger and the Outsider its hungry god. I hear his voice, demanding sacrifices, meat and souls. He shows me knives, and soft guts, and beating hearts. He threatens the good people of Morley with his monstrous appetites. I am afraid._

On another page: _There. It is done. The Outsider must be fed, lest he choose to feed! Let the unworthy be cast in his maw, and the worthy thereby saved._

The killer was never stopped; he died of pneumonia and the murders simply ended. A mystery that would endure for years.

On the last pages of his diary, these words: _HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUNGERS HE HUN_

  


* * *

  


And perhaps it was all exactly as the Outsider said. They found him, and bound him, and he became a god.


End file.
